Mocking a Memory
by 3phemerA
Summary: Was the lifestream there to help the ones we've lost, or to turn them into a memory? What kind of a person does it make you if you wish to forget? A One-Shot Challenge. Tifa x Zack, Rated M to be safe. R&R please. New chapters up...
1. Mocking a Memory

**1/25 – Mocking a Memory**

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Pure white light lit up the sky around me, causing the snowflakes that fell steadily from the sky to glow in the darkness of midnight. I watched them, mesmerized by the small, perfectly imperfect designs they wore. Far above us, the lifestream glowed as it traveled through the atmosphere, it's green aura nearly blocked by the clouds and the whirling storm that hovered over Midgar like a shade.

I stood upon the fire escape that climbed the outside of Seventh Heaven, my arms resting on the cold metal even though my fingertips were frozen. I was exhausted from AVALANCHE's latest mission. I had expended all my energy in my fight with the Turks.

No, the fight was not just my own. To believe such a thing would be unforgivably selfish. It was everyone's battle. My friends had stood by my side since I came here, and then there were more than had joined in afterwards. Most of them were still here, still working against Shinra and their life-stealing reactors.

However, they were all asleep now. Most of them were in their own beds, sound asleep, dreaming of far off memories and what a perfect life would be. Nobody saw me out here, leaning on the railing, my lips nearly blue with cold but still unwilling to try and sleep for fear of nightmares. Instead, I watched the dim glow of the lifestream from where it ran like a river, protecting us all from the dangers outside this world.

Giving life to all things, gushing forth from the very core of the earth to the sky before gathering itself and washing over everything once more. I had always wondered what it felt like to become one with the planet... to go back to the lifestream. So beautiful, and yet so strange at the same time. Sometimes, even terrifying.

The whole world had lived with the lifestream since the dawn of the Cetra. Every time someone loses their life, they return to that stream to give life to another living thing. But, once they were one with the planet, did they think? Did they know what was going on, on the surface? Or even that they were dead? Or did they forever follow the current, completely oblivious to everything below them?

Could Cloud be this way now, as well?

Ever since I was a small child, the lifestream had been there, just beyond reach. People long gone were lurking just beneath every second, waiting for their chance to take to life again. I'd seen my mother dissipate into streams of green energy, her soul – all that she was – returning to the origin. It had been beautiful, but it had been evil as well.

I thought back, remembering the white hospital room, with all the beeping machines. The needles pressed through the skin of my mother's hands, which were bony enough that I was afraid to handle them for fear that they would snap in half at the slightest touch. When the moment came, her skin had shimmered, and then nearly turned to mist.

My hand had gone right through her arm, and I'd found myself clenching the sheets of the bed between my tiny fingers as we watched her go.

I stood nearly motionless, my eyes following the lifestream as it flowed gently above the clouds. It followed a seemingly random pattern, never going over the same place twice in exactly the same way. I sighed softly. Over the last five years, there's been so much grief, so much pain and suffering. Not only for those who survived what happened at Nibelheim, but for those who lived under the plate as well.

There has been so much needless loss of life here. I was exhausted from both the physical strain of running a busy bar, and the emotional strain of living without sunlight. The streets were gloomy twenty-four-seven, people stumbling around in ripped and dirty clothing, sleeping in alcoves and alleyways.

Shinra had deceived so many into thinking that if they gave up all control their lives would be better. But instead, people starve in the streets, fall – often drunk – in the gutters to die, and grow pale living in cardboard houses underneath the large metal plates.

The Gaia of today was suspended – revolving around a sea of lies and false pretenses – but over the years I had learned that pretenses weren't nearly enough. Had President Shinra just done what was right to begin with, Sephiroth wouldn't have gone crazy and destroyed my home – and maybe, just maybe, he would have never been created.

But I was getting ahead of myself now.

The events that had led up to that night had changed things, made things infinitely more complicated. If I had known... he was there... then maybe... just...

"I'm sorry, Teef."

Those had been Cloud's exact words to me, when I'd asked him why. I remember inwardly cursing him for apologizing, cursing him for being so down on himself. Then, without a word, I'd turned to walk away... but his body had begun to shimmer with a pale green light, dissipating into nothingness. Nothing to me, at least.

I shook my head in silent frustration. He had promised that he would protect me; rescue me when I was in trouble. But how could he do that now? Sephiroth was dead, they'd escaped from the old mansion – in which they'd been prisoners for years. They were so close to home, Cloud was so close to being back here again, with me, and then he died.

The whole point of all this was for the greater good, right? Wasn't it? So why did it have to be this way? Why?

My questions weren't answered, even now. He'd still disappeared, gone back to the planet, and I wouldn't see him again. There was nobody now. Just no one. We were the last... I was the only one left from that small mountain town.

Everything always ended with the lifestream. People, memories, and regrets. Even Sephiroth – the one that they'd called superhuman, invincible – was not beyond it's liquid grasp. So I stood upon the fire escape, my arms frozen and my skin pale white to match the snow that had made it's way through the plates with the wind... watched the big patch of lucid sky that showed over the broken church in the distance.

Was the lifestream there to help us find peace, to help us find guidance in a broken world? Or was it here to take the people we love and turn them into nothing more than a memory?

I didn't believe that I would ever find the answers to those questions.


	2. A Strange Attraction

**2/25 – A Strange Attraction**

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"I don't understand what's wrong with him."

The obvious lie blew past me with the strength of a tsunami. I stared at the tall, dark-haired man who leaned against the wall to the inn with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. At the least, he looked stressed. But that word was simply a understatement.

"Are you sure he's okay?" I asked, kicking the toe of my boot into the mud.

It was raining hard – something that hardly ever happened at this time of year – flooding the pothole-filled streets of Nibelheim with water and saturating everything down to the very core. My hair was sopping wet, sticking to my ivory skin and tangling itself with the tassels of my clothing. Absentmindedly, I brushed a few strands away from my eyes.

Zack didn't look like he was taking any wear from the rain at all. Yeah, his clothing was wet too – his sweater sticking to his chest and clearly defining the chiselled ridges of his physique – but his hair still stuck up in harsh spikes that seemed to jut straight up from his forehead. The man's sword, big as it was, seemed to be missing. Maybe, he just didn't want it to get wet.

Odd, as it _was_ just a sword.

"Did you just put "Sephiroth" and "okay" in the same sentence?" He asked mildly, but the words still had a tone of incredulous nature to it.

Suddenly, I felt very childish. He seemed infinitely older and smarter than me; and I hated having that feeling. Awkwardly, I spun on my heel and looked up at the dark sky, covered by clouds. A dull green glow managed to breach the sheet of haze, but just barely.

Even though the clouds had been there the day before when we hiked up to the reactor, at such a height, the sky had been clear – we'd literally been standing above the weather itself, not boxed in by it, the open sky above us, the lifestream flowing over us. For a moment, I wished that we were there again, waiting, gazing up at the very essence of the planet.

Then, I remembered how things had gone once the others had come out of the reactor, and I wished we'd never trekked up there to begin with; once we'd returned to the town, Sephiroth had stormed off towards the Shinra mansion and hadn't been seen since.

What the hell was he doing in there?

I heard Zack shift behind me, the soles of his boots grinding against the small outcrop of asphalt on which we stood. He sighed. The sound was deep, quiet, but it held a extreme tension; a tension that reminded me of someone I used to know.

"I've always wondered," I heard myself say, and then I stopped. My breath whistled through my teeth, and I hugged myself in my own sudden uncertainty.

"What?" The man behind me asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes were hard – blank, emotionless. I turned around and stared at him for a long moment, speculating over my own words.

"I've always wondered why. Just why. When people die, they return to the lifestream, but after that, what do they feel? Do they just join the flow of souls and forget everything, or are they just completely oblivious to everything else except life as a whole?"

My words saturated the silence that followed. I took a deep breath, shook my head.

"If the planet gave us life, gave us all this-" I held my arms out, gestured all around me as if to include the whole world in my theoretical circle "-why would it make us give it all up? Why would we forget?"

I stopped there, my voice quivered on the last word... and I clenched my jaw. _Forget_. I hated that word with a passion. Did it even matter what we did in life if we all lost it in the end? All we worked for, all we loved, all the people we loved, gone, just like that? If my mother forgot me when she died, then did it matter that I was her daughter?

Or, maybe forgetting is a thing that happens when we're alive. I mean, Cloud forgot me when he left for the Shinra academy, didn't he?

"Sometimes, I think it's better that people forget. Maybe, it's what they want." Zack said, his words cutting through my internal commentary.

Tears of anger pooled behind my eyelids. I wiped them away, my lips set with a stubborn shape to them. _I won't cry in front of him, I won't._ Instead I kicked my toe into the concrete and stepped forward, out into the rain, let it fall onto me and run across the surface of my skin on it's own accord.

"Why would it be better? What kind of a person would you be if you just wanted to forget everything, even those that you loved?"

My voice didn't betray me this time, but my words came out sounding like I was a scorned child. I bit my lip, certain that he must have thought bad of me for being like this. Everything was quiet, except for the rain and the dripping of the eaves. Then, there were footsteps behind me, a warm hand on my shoulder.

"It doesn't really make them bad people, it just means that they've been through a lot of bad things." Zack told me, his voice holding a odd timbre that startled me for a moment. "Maybe, they don't forget. Maybe the memories they had from life just grow fainter, so that they can enjoy what's up in the lifestream instead of feeling bad over the past?"

I didn't answer, I was too distracted by his hand on me. He let it drop, then began to pace slowly back and forth under the eaves of the inn. "Who knows, right? It's not like anyone has gone to the lifestream and come back to tell about it."

"Yeah," I said, feeling a bit better but not willing to say much more. I could feel him staring into my back, but I could also hear him pacing behind me.

Zack sighed deeply – another one of those heart-wrenching sounds – and turned to me. His boots scraped across the concrete as we walked towards me. His large hand on my arm was warm, but I automatically tensed when he touched me.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" He said.

At first I thought that he was trying to tell me not to worry about our conversation, or what happened in the lifestream. I was about to voice a hurried argument when I realized that to offend me wasn't his intention. He was talking about Sephiroth.

I turned on the heels of my boots, and looked at Zack. He was standing near the edge of the concrete, both arms folded across his broad chest, staring up the hill at the Shinra mansion. I looked up to what he was watching.

There was a silhouette in the window, a man leaning over a book. The figure shook it's head – long hair whipping around – and then strode from view. The light went out.

Both of us silently watched the window for a few moments. I looked at him, he looked at me. I'd known that Soldier had enhanced eyes, but I hadn't expected this. Zack's eyes pinned me to the spot, their azure glow – spreading from a vibrant green around the centre to a striking violet around the outer rim – seemingly unchanged by the dim light of late evening.

If anything, his eyes were _more_ brilliant than they were at mid-day.

I was sucked into the depths of the swirling orbs, my mind suddenly blank; fixated by what I was seeing. I leaned, the heels of my boots suddenly lighter on the ground. My eyes wandered, seeing his dark lashes, the straight length of his nose... his lips, where they curved sensually; teasing anyone who dared look.

_What would it feel like to kiss him?_

Like a elastic stretched too tight, I snapped back to reality. Standing on my toes, my whole body weight shifted forward – like metal drawn to a magnet – my face was only about a foot away from his. I stepped back at the sudden change in distance, blinking at the awkward moment.

Zack's lips were parted, a hint of a smile teasing the corners, and a strange kind of amusement coloured his gaze. I was almost sucked in again, but then I realized that he was enjoying how distracted he'd made me.

"Hey!" I cried out, slamming the palm of my hand into his arm to break the sudden tension.

He only laughed. Suddenly, I was wondering where my anger had gone. It seemed like it had dissolved in the sudden attraction that had sprung up between us. Then again, maybe it wasn't anger to begin with. All I knew was that – in this very moment – I wasn't angry. Not at my mother, not at the planet, and most definitely not at Zack.

"I-" We both said at the same time.

There was a long pause where we stared at each other – all the while I struggled not to get sucked into the vortex of his irises.

"You go," I said, feeling a bit of a heat rise up in my cheeks. To hide my blush, I turned towards the inn, a bit of a smile on my face. Zack shook his head.

"Nah, you go."

I shook my head. Again, there was a long silence. Scuffing my boots against the asphalt, the Soldier's eyes burned holes into my back. We stayed like that for a long time, before I heard another set of footwear on the ground.

The Shinra guard that had survived the trip to the reactor came up to Zack, tapped on his back and gestured back towards the direction of the general store – he didn't look at me, didn't say a word. Just pointed. I received a quick wave from Zack, a strained smile.

Then he was gone. I stared at the ground for a moment, seeing my feet were they turned inwards on themselves in my boots. Then, I looked up at the sky. The dull green glow that had permeated the air was gone, instead replaced by a full-on view of the lifestream... the clouds parted, long tendrils of life flowing over them and wrapping around themselves in a never-ending dance.

"Thank you," I whispered under my breath. "that's all I wanted to say."

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**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. ^^" This one story (although it's much less... likable than the one before it) was driving me mad. So I took a break, and then came back and finished it two days later. Review? :) I see the hits you guys...


	3. Scars and Souvenirs

**3/25 – Scars and Souvenirs **

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"This one?"

I stared at the deep, wine-coloured dress, with it's plunging neckline and it's seemingly soft fabric. It was all smooth lines and tailored curves – I knew exactly how it would feel in each area, how it would cling to certain places and fall in others.

I'd worn the dress more than once... but nobody had ever seen. It had been a temptation the moment that I'd spotted it upon the rack in the store, but from the moment I held it up to my body I knew that I would never be able to wear it.

Not where anyone could see, anyway. I'd worn it on the nights when nobody was home – when Barret took the kids and Zack was out helping Cloud with his deliveries – which had been often in the last six months. I'd worn that dress around the kitchen, in the main room, everywhere where there were no windows or just curtains.

But... I didn't think that I had brought it.

Now, seeing the silky fabric clutched in Zack's hands – looking horribly out of place there – I felt dread grow and disperse in the pit of my stomach. My own hands automatically clenched around the mug I was holding, and I pulled my lips back from the rim.

"No." Was my short answer. I shook my head, feeling my brow tighten, and knowing that the look in my eyes would be dark. The man's eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

"Yes." He argued. "There isn't anything wrong with it, at least that I can see."

Zack unfolded the dress, and then looked down into it. I watched his azure eyes glide over the low neckline, to the painstakingly tailored hem. I sighed. When I did, he looked up at me. His jet-black eyebrows were pinched together now, and he studied me with a disturbing amount of focus.

"What's wrong with the dress?"

"Zack, there's nothing wrong with the dress." I told him, setting my mug down on the small motel-room table. "I just don't feel like it's that appropriate-"

"Bullshit."

I stared at him for a long moment, took in his no-nonsense expression. The weight in my chest grew, as if a rock was crushing down on me. For a moment, I contemplated turning around and walking out, but I didn't. Instead, I strode forward and kneeled on the floor as well, taking hold of one end of the dress. He held on, still looking at me.

"It's not the dress that has something wrong with it. The dress is perfect." I said.

Zack reached out to touch my arm, then his hand came up and cupped my face from chin to ear. I sighed, pressed my face into his warm skin. Then, he let go of the wine fabric and pressed that hand against my opposite cheek, effectively cupping my face.

"If there's nothing wrong with the dress, then why won't you wear it?" He asked, his voice gentle.

I opened my eyes – they'd closed at his touch – and looked at him. Zack's face had a compassionate expression, his eyes were glassy and as brilliant as ever in the dying light that filtered through the off-white curtains. Staring up at that face, it was hard to say no. I was still struck by how handsome he was every time we shared a moment like this.

Maybe, I'd never get used to it. I wouldn't mind. For once in my life, the flustered feeling – one I experienced so often when he was around – wasn't at all uncomfortable.

At the same time though, this was the same kindness that I couldn't handle coming from Zack. It was the very thing that we'd fought against for a while now, the very thing that had brought us together but at the same time pushed us apart. I took a breath, willed the sad weight in my chest to disappear.

It wasn't that I didn't trust him. I trusted him so much, with every breath. But... what if he saw? If I put on that dress, how could he _not _see? Everyone would see. They'd stare, and they'd wonder what happened. They'd pity me and they'd feel sorry.

_How did something like that happen to someone like her?_

Everyone said that such things were in the past; that what happened then was only a memory. Sometime, I had to accept it and let it go. But, how can I when just looking in the mirror brought me back to flames and pain?

"Tifa..."

I stared up into his eyes – kind, glossy, but filled with a odd kind of pain – and watched his mouth form a weak, unsatisfying smile.

"You don't have to wear it. Not if you don't want to." Zack said.

I gathered the dress in my hand, pressed it against my chest and I pushed to my feet. His hand trailed down my arm as I did, my eyes following me to the bathroom and only straying once the door was shut. Once it was closed, I let my face fall.

All this, because I couldn't stand seeing him upset.

Staring down at the fabric in my hands, I felt a fleeting panic. What would he think when he saw it? Would he still want me? A thousand questions flew through my head at once, further dampening my morale and making my breathing feel rushed.

No, I told myself. Stop thinking about it. If I panicked, it wouldn't help at all. It would just make things worse... what would he think of me if that happened?

Consciously taking deep breaths, I stripped off my clothing – turning my back to the mirror. The fabric was soft against my skin, and it felt good. The tailoring clung to my hips, the top hanging from thin straps to connect in the back, the folded neckline falling somewhere just above my navel.

Turning to the door, I hesitated, fighting the urge to look in the mirror. I didn't want to see... I didn't want _him_ to see. I didn't want him to stop wanting me, for what he saw to push him away. Would I be able to bear that? To see him everyday and not-

_Don't. Just trust, Tifa. For once._

I swallowed, pushed a way-ward lock of hair behind my ear, and opened the door. The hinges squeaked, suddenly very loud. My bare foot against the floor made a soft sound. The dress stretched gently as I started forward.

Zack looked up from where he sat on the side of my bed, his fingers fidgeting restlessly in his lap. He met my eyes, the soft swirls of colour holding a compassionate sort of feeling within. I knew how my face must have looked – panicked, shaken, maybe even pale – but I forced myself to meet his curious gaze. Then, his eyes dropped...

...and he stared.

I let my eyes close against his face, and the shocked expression that it held. I waited, my body tense, for his reaction. His eyes on the deep, red scar hurt. More than I had ever expected it to. I stood still, like a statue, waiting for the door to the hotel room to close, or for him to say something.

_Either way, it must be the end. _

My knuckles cracked softly as I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms, so hard that I should have been bleeding. I forced myself to open my eyes, made my legs move me to the floor length mirror that was attached to the wall beside the bed.

Ugly. The crimson deformity ran from my collarbone, all the way across my chest, to where it tapered off below my breast on the opposite side. The edges were slightly raised, and small puckers in the scar tissue showed where the sutures had been.

Were they'd tried to sew my flesh back together after it had been torn apart.

Tears filled my eyes. I watched myself in the mirror, seeing how my upper lip began to quiver and my eyebrows screwed up in the middle of my forehead. Suddenly – once again – I felt like a child. A small, scared child. That was the last straw that pushed my weakness over the threshold and sent salty tears streaming down my face.

Then, I felt a hand on my arm. The calloused feel of Zack's hand caused my breath to hitch, made my skin prickle. I didn't expect him to get anywhere near me after what he'd seen, never-mind touch me. But then, his other arm looped around my waist, turning me away from the mirror and towards him.

Zack looked down at me, his eyes full of some kind of emotion that I couldn't name. I dropped my head, tucked my chin, and tried to hide behind my hair – tears were still oozing miserably from the corners of my eyes. I held in a sob, my shoulders shook.

"Tifa." He whispered softly, one of his hands lifting to touch my face. "Tifa, look at me."

I didn't. I couldn't. I was holding onto my composure desperately, but it continued to tear at the edges and slip between my fingers. Then, I felt his hand cup my chin, and he lifted my face to his. I tried to pull away, tried to turn my head away, but Zack's fingers were strong.

There was no escaping from him, I realized.

So I looked up into his eyes, tried not to cry anymore as I watched the last of the day's sunlight, reflected in his lovely eyes. Instead, my body shook violently one last time, and a sob escaped my throat.

Just one, but it was enough to close the space between us; just enough to close his arms around me and to press my face against his broad, strong shoulder as my tears soaked into his shirt.

"There's nothing wrong with you," He said. "nothing wrong with this."

He pulled away for just a moment, and touched the scar where it licked across my collarbone. I shivered at his touch - feeling the sensitivity of the strange tissue, as well as the fact that his hand was on my chest.

I stared up at him as he remarked the scar for a second time, my hands still on his chest. Then, his fingers trailed down, tracing the length of the mark... eliciting another tense shiver. I clenched the fabric of his shirt, let my head drop.

"I can't forget, because of it." I whispered, my voice betraying me with a tell-tale quiver of tone.

"It's not about forgetting, or getting over it."

My eyes snapped to his face at those words, my hands went limp. For a moment, I was in complete shock, not knowing what to think about what he had just said. His eyes met my own – much more bright and suddenly, a lot more knowing than mine – and his smile dissipated.

"I won't tell you that forgetting about your past is a good thing, and I will never tell you to get over it. Sometimes, that just doesn't happen. But, just because it won't go away doesn't mean that you have to let it take you over." He whispered, his breath blowing against my face.

Zack planted a kiss on the tip of my nose, gentle and warm. A warmth crept up in my cheeks, underneath the glistening tears that still adorned them. He then wiped them away with his thumb, one by one until the only sign that I had cried was the glassy look in my eyes.

Then, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the corner of my mouth. Then, his face migrated till it hovered over my own... his hand on my jaw and my lips claimed by his own perfectly curved ones. He gently squeezed my upper lip between his own.

Then, he leaned back and pressed his forehead against mine.

"You get it?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Good."

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**A/N:** Two in one day? Yeah. I guess I had a bit of luck with this one, as it just seemed to gush forth from my fingers. =.= I'm tired already. Maybe it's just because I tend to feel the feelings that the characters I'm writing about are feeling (when I do actually put my heart into something). Blah, emotionally charged moments. Love them, but they kill the author.


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